


By The Moon And The Stars

by StarSpangledBucky



Series: BeckWatney [6]
Category: The Martian (2015), The Martian - All Media Types, The Martian - Andy Weir
Genre: Angst, Camping, Comfort, Crying, Dark Past Memories, Feelings, Fluff, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, One Potato. Two Potato. Wait Make That Fifteen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Philophobia, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Swearing, doubts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 09:53:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarSpangledBucky/pseuds/StarSpangledBucky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I'm afraid…” he confessed, drawing his bottom lip in with his teeth and blinking rapidly.</p><p>“Of what?” Watney questioned.</p><p>“Love,” he choked out, swiping some tears away as he kept his head low. “I'm afraid of love, I'm afraid of falling in love, loving someone and being loved,” he continued. “Aren't you?” he added.</p><p>Watney shrugged.</p><p>“Nobody should be afraid of love, Chris,” he issued. </p><p>In which Mark and Chris share their feelings for each other during a camping trip even though Chris is afraid to love. Yet Mark makes a confession that can only be described as pure commitment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By The Moon And The Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Well, well well I’m back again with more BeckWatney. All I can describe this as is sad in some parts with a lot of fluff and Chris and Mark being teasing little shits to each other after. Please enjoy!
> 
> This is from a prompt with a number and a quote: 13. “How can anyone not be afraid of love?”
> 
> Philophobia: The fear of falling in love or emotional attachment. The risk is usually when a person has confronted any emotional turmoil relating to love in the past but also can be chronic phobia.
> 
> Warnings for: Some dark themes (they’re very minor but they’re to do with Watney and him not coping after Mars until Beck saves the day and also when Beck mentions that he thought Watney may have taken his own life when he went to check up on him).

_"Very funny! Thanks for the potatoes stashed in my sleeping bag!”_

Laughter erupted high into the open air of a campsite where the crew of Ares 3 sat around a roaring fire with mugs of warm coffee in their hands. Watney was searching for his thick sweater inside his tent, only to find at least fifteen potatoes shoved inside his sleeping bag. He dragged it out from the tent, tipping all of them out on the ground before kicking half of them out into the darkness. They weren't clean potatoes either so his sleeping bag was filled with dirt and smelt like it to.

“Fuck you guys,” Watney huffed, throwing it back into the tent with a frown on his face.

“We thought you might want to plant some potatoes while we’re out here,” Johanssen said.

Watney flipped off his friends while he tugged his sweater on, pulling the hems of the sleeves down over his hands and rubbing them together. It'd been at least five months since they'd seen each other, it was Lewis’ idea to go camping, nobody complained. If they could spend a year in space, or Mars for Watney’s sake, then they could spend a few days out in the wilderness. Which is why they found themselves at a campsite in Connecticut that Beck recommended they go to. Everyone else travelled there, then stayed at Beck’s house overnight before they journeyed to the camp. If anything it was what Watney needed, fresh air and the company of friends.

After his Mars ordeal things weren't easy going, there were nightmares, sleepless nights, anxiety. He'd be kidding himself if he denied that he isolated himself during his recovery period, because he had. Out of everybody, Beck was the most concerned about how Watney was doing. But Watney didn't expect him to suddenly show up at his doorstep in Illinois two months after returning back home, nobody else knew about that visit, they all thought Watney and Beck hadn't seen each other in five months either. Not even how calmly they greeted each other upon their arrival to Beck’s house raised any eyebrows. He still thought about the day it happened, how relieved he was…

_Watney was curled up on the sofa in sweatpants and a sweater, blinking away the haziness in his eyes along with tears that had long gone by. Watney had yet another sleepless night, two hours was the most he got before having a nightmare. Empty bottles of alcohol and takeout boxes were strewn on the coffee table and the floor, not that there were many boxes of food anyway. He was thin now, to the point where he could feel his ribs starting to show more prominently. It was like Mars all over again. He'd lost count on how many times he'd thrown up in the bathroom or in the kitchen sink, the taste still foul in his mouth even when he took a generous swig of alcohol. Watney felt ill, alone and the depression was creeping up on him like a silent killer, ready to take him when it pleased._

_He should have called somebody to ask for help, but he felt like it would only burden them, Watney didn't want to be more of a burden than he already thought he was. And out of everybody he'd become close with before and after the Mars mission, Watney really missed Beck. He missed his friend to the point where it reduced him to tears. Beck may have passed off as stubborn, on occasion, but with Watney it always brought out the best in him. They made each other laugh, told stories to each other late at night, poked fun at each other and even worked together. The young doctor was basically Watney’s lifeline when he was rescued from Mars, making sure he was eating right again and that he wasn't terribly injured. Now that all went to shit because he felt worse than he did when he was on Mars. That's why the knock on the door was like a prayer being answered._

_“Mark?”_

_Beck’s voice sounded soft, but in Watney’s ears it was loud, with a constant ringing following afterwards._

_“It's Chris,”_

_Another knock came, a little louder this time. Watney only sat in silence, his throat was too dry for him to speak, his muscles ached, it felt too much like a dream. He could see Beck’s shadow outside the window, but he wouldn't be able to see inside, at least, he wouldn't see Watney on the sofa._

_“Come on, don't do this to me,”_

_His tone was panicked now, the handle turning on the door but not budging. Then Beck was cursing and pacing, his footsteps heavy on the wooden porch._

_“I'll bust this door down. Give me some sign you're here. I haven't heard from you in a while,”_

_Watney struggled, yet managed to push himself up straight, brushing the cold sweat from his brow and the stray tears on his cheeks. He shakily stood up, feeling muscles twinge and bones crack from laying down for too long, the dizziness hitting him like a strong gust of wind and causing him to trip over the coffee table. His body hit the floor with a heavy thud, punching out the breath in him as he winced through clenched teeth._

_“Mark!”_

_Beck was hammering on the door with his fist, cursing loudly, before giving up and taking a few steps back. He slammed his foot against the door, hearing it creak under his weight but still remain closed. The younger man ran then at the door, shouldering it harshly, stumbling through the open doorway and coming to a complete halt. It was the smell that hit him first, the old takeout boxes, the reek of alcohol and then blood. He rushed over to Watney who was lying on his back, blood trickling down the side of his head where he'd clipped the edge of a smaller table that was between two lounge chairs._

_“Fuck, thank god you're okay,”_

_He grabbed the scarf from around his neck and pressed it to the cut on Watney’s head, applying pressure immediately. The older man tried to speak, opening his mouth only to let out a shaky breath. Then the tears started, choked sobs that were hitched whenever he breathed in and out. They became punched out and loud as Beck reached for Watney’s hand, squeezing it tightly while stroking his thumb over his hand. He'd gone too long without seeing another person, without physical contact, to feel Beck’s warm hand in his, stroking his knuckles while he soothed him with a gentle tone gave him the relief he'd been desperately needing._

_“Shh, it's alright Mark. I'm here buddy…”_

Beck had stayed in Illinois for two months, cooking meals for his friend, helping him get his house into shape again, taking him on walks to get his fitness up again and supporting him through the bad days. Watney always remembered the nights he woke up, terrified from a nightmare, shaking violently until he felt Beck’s arms wrap around him and embrace him warmly. It didn't mean anything, it was simply a coping mechanism to help him get through the night. He slept better that way, himself and Beck bonded over the two months, strengthening their friendship, yet leaving the door open to the possibility of something else. Something that lingered but didn't jump out at them straight away.

As Watney sat back down at the fire on a wooden log, Beck held out a mug to him with a small smile on his face. Watney took it gratefully, scooting closer to Beck until their shoulders touched, bringing another smile out of the younger man. He'd gotten so used to having Beck sleep behind him with his arms around him he didn't see any harm in them sitting as close as possible. It was still comforting for Watney, he was recovering, slowly but surely, and having the same connection with Beck regardless of who was around them made him happy. They'd been doing it since they'd arrived at the camp, chopping wood from a fire, kicking water at each other while swimming in the lake, then making the dinner together. Nobody had spoken up about it yet, it was as if both of them were waiting for it.

“You two are getting cosy,” Vogel commented.

_There it was._

“We’re camping, it's cold, I'll cuddle close to Chris if I want to,” Watney bit back.

“The rest of us don't feel cold,” Martinez interjected.

“Yeah? Well I think I lost my tolerance to cold after being on Mars for nearly a year so I'm feeling the cold,” Watney muttered.

Beck shifted beside him, placing his empty mug to the side before standing, picking up the torch sitting behind the log.

“It's not about the temperature. Mark and I are just closer than we were beforehand. All of you were wondering why you couldn't find me in Hartford, that's because I was in Chicago for two months, with Mark. He wasn't okay after Mars, my gut told me I had to go and see if he was at home. Let me tell you when I knocked on his door and he didn't respond, not once but three times, I couldn't think of anything positive I only thought of the negatives,” he explained. “I thought he was dead and it hurt more than when I pronounced him dead when we left him behind, I thought he was _actually_ dead this time. I'm sorry if Mark and I are sitting too close, but it helps him cope. I didn't want-” he paused, swallowing thickly. “...to lose him like we did the first time,” he finished.

The confession left a long, drawn out silence around the campfire, everyone's eyes locked on Beck, including Watney’s. He sounded broken and choked up from speaking about something that was mostly a rough time for his friend, but also himself. In the flicker of light from the fire his eyes were glassy, his remaining features twitching and trembling as if he was trying so hard to keep the emotions back.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he breathed out, turning away quickly.

“Where are you going?” Johanssen asked.

“Bathroom,” he replied.

He wandered into the darkness, with the small circle of the torchlight the only thing visible until he disappeared behind the trees which led to the bathrooms. Watney stared down at his mug, smelling the bitter aroma of instant coffee that they only needed boiled water for, noticing three small marshmallows floating on the top. Beck always gave Watney the most marshmallows, last night he got four while everyone else got three. It was the simple things that had Watney’s heart and brain screaming the same things at him day in and day out. The only problem was that Beck seemed so reserved about things that grew beyond friendship, any hints Watney may have given him seemed to fly under Beck’s radar.

“Mark, did he really spend two months with you? Did he really travel that far just for you?” Lewis questioned.

Watney nodded slowly.

“He did,” he croaked out.

He hadn't realised he _himself_ was getting choked up at Beck’s words.

“I think I should check on him, I don't think he went to the bathroom,” he added, pushing himself off of the log.

With another torch in his hand, Watney left the others who never responded to his suggestion about finding Beck. Sometimes they just knew when to stay quiet about things and not talk about it any further. Watney navigated his way across the grounds, following the footprints in the dirt, the torchlight lighting the path up ahead. He knew Beck too well to know that when he went in a different direction from the bathrooms that he was trying to hide something.

“Chris!” he called, listening to the echo of his voice in tow.

In front of him there was a low hill that looked out onto the river where the moon was shining down on it. Watney spotted Beck standing on top of the hill, hands tucked into his sweater pockets, the torch discarded at his side. He turned at the sound of leaves and rocks crunching under Watney’s shoes, squinting his eyes when the light hit him.

“Are you trying to blind me?” he complained, covering his eyes with his hand.

Watney let out a hushed laugh as he flicked the switch off and ventured up to meet Beck, his hand falling on the younger man’s back.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I'm fine,” Beck uttered, moving from Watney’s side and wobbling on the hill a little.

“Woah. _Fuck._ Easy Chris,” he warned, grabbing his wrist on instinct. “You nearly fell you idiot,” he grunted.

“Sorry I just-” Beck stopped, pulling his wrist from the older man’s grip. “...sorry,” he mumbled.

“What's gotten into you?” Watney tested, sliding his hands into his own pockets.

Beck sighed in exasperation, he wasn't in the mood for more deep and meaningful bullshit.

“Really, I'm fine,” he quipped.

“Fuck off Chris,” Watney scoffed. “What you said back there...that meant a lot. It meant a lot that you could say that to the others. But I was making excuses. I don't know how to thank you enough for those two months. I'd be lying if I didn't say they were the best two months of my life,” he admitted.

A snort and a chuckle fell from Beck’s mouth while he chewed on his lip, worrying it between his teeth.

“You were a tolerable patient when you actually started eating the meals I made for you. But we had fun right?” he answered.

“Of course we did,” Watney mused, turning his head to look at Beck.

When he smiled at him it was even brighter under the moonlight, even his eyes appeared brighter than they ever had been. Beck smiled back with some hesitation along with it, there always was a lot of it when it regarded Watney, not just a botanist, or a crew member...a friend, maybe even a best friend. Half of the time Beck felt like he was living in a dream and if he were to open his eyes one day he'd find himself in a mess. Though, it couldn't be any more fucked up than how he felt with his current situation in his mind, all of it leading back to the man standing beside him.

“I'm afraid…” he confessed, drawing his bottom lip in with his teeth and blinking rapidly.

“Of what?” Watney questioned.

“Love,” he choked out, swiping some tears away as he kept his head low. “I'm afraid of love, I'm afraid of falling in love, loving someone and being loved,” he continued. “Aren't you?” he added.

Watney shrugged.

“Nobody should be afraid of love, Chris,” he issued.

Beck’s brow furrowed in confusion.

"How can anyone _not_ be afraid of love?" he whispered, staring back at Watney again.

The older man glanced back at him, his gaze locked on Beck’s eyes. They were so blue with a hint of grey he might as well have been staring into space.

“Why are you?” he queried, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Truth is, Chris Beck wasn't _that_ open, he tended to keep to himself, about almost everything. But lately since spending those two months with Watney, since spending a further four months away from him before they met again, he wanted to be open with him. They sent texts to each other, they called each other, but it was nothing like being face to face. Mark Watney had grown on him, and for Beck, it felt like he was stealing his heart along with it. Yet he was still afraid, and he didn't want to be…

“People have hurt me, Mark. I thought I was in love with them, I poured my heart and soul into being good with the relationship. But I don't think it was good enough, because they left, they tore my heart up while they were at it. So I'm behind a wall now, and I can't break it down,” Beck wavered, scrubbing his hand down his face.

His breath hitched at the light touch of fingertips on the palm of his hand which trailed down to brush over his fingers and knuckles. By natural instinct, he slowly flipped his hand around, entwining his fingers with Watney’s, the warmth rising deep in his chest.

“I wouldn't hurt you,” Watney soothed, resting his thumb over Beck’s.

“I-” he faltered, unable to spit out any form of a sentence.

“Don't tell me you didn't feel it too,” Watney replied. “Those two months we spent together weren't just us growing closer as friends. I was growing closer to you in a different way. Chris, I was falling in love with you before I even got the fuck off Mars. If I had to be stranded there with somebody else from the crew, I would have picked you. I kept thinking about _you_ when I was there. And having those two months together where you got my health back in check, made me laugh again, made me smile again...you saved my _damn_ life,” he said.

Beck had let the tears flow now, the streaks prominent in the light of the moon until Mark lifted his free hand and wiped them away.

“Mark we can't. You live in Illinois, I'm here in Connecticut. I can't live like that, I have before and it wasn't fair on me, because the guy I was with went behind my back whenever I was here. He kept lying to me and my trust broke itself at the end of that relationship,” he blurted out, rubbing his sleeve across his eyes and cheeks.

Watney shook his head.

“I won't do that to you,” he assured him.

“You don't know that Mark! We all have temptations!” Beck yelled, snatching his hand from Watney’s.

“Chris I love you!” he exclaimed.

“Don't,” Beck sobbed, sniffling as he shook his head.

Watney's hands fell to Beck’s waist, bringing him in closer until his arms moved around his hips and his hands sat comfortably on Beck’s lower back.

“I lied. I was scared to love you. But then I realised I only get to live once, I got a lot of chances at love which probably weren't love in the first place. Then I finally settle on one-” he paused, pressing a tender kiss to Beck’s forehead. “...I want that to be you,” he confessed.

“What did I just say, Mark. We _can't,_ ” Beck hissed, balling his hands into fists that rested against the older man's chest.

“I'm moving to Connecticut,” he murmured.

Beck froze suddenly.

“What?” he breathed.

“Chris when you left to come back here I felt lost again, and I realised it was because I needed to be with you. When I saw you last night I wanted to hug you and stay like that. My bed was empty without you,” Watney spoke.

Now there were tears stinging his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“You've got me crying now. You're such a stubborn fuck, Beck. I love you and I'm moving to Connecticut, to your house, to be with you so I can show you that I won't be like those other guys. Let go Chris, let go,” he grumbled, squeezing the younger man's hip.

“Mark,” Beck crowed, affectionately.

His fingers curled into hood of Watney’s sweater, yanking him forward to crush their lips together in a chaste kiss, his head angled slightly to the left. Watney’s hands were back on Beck, pushing gently into the curve of his spine to draw him closer. Their lips parted to deepen the kiss, keeping it slow to explore what each of them liked, but they both kissed very much the same. Watney could taste the remains of cinnamon and sugar on Beck’s lips, pulling back to kiss his bottom lip only. Beck’s fingers slid into Watney’s hair, twisting into the short strands as he inhaled through his nose, breathing in the scents of nature around them. If there were a moment where he felt more alive, it'd be now, with Watney, under the stars and the moon over the lake. But they had to part, both of them needed air to breathe again, the cold pushing out wisps of white like a dragon's breath.

“Fuck, now I know what I'm in for when I move in with you,” Watney panted.

Beck burst into fits of laughter, cupping Watney’s jaw in his hands before stealing another brief kiss then placing his hands on Watney’s arms.

“You know...I love you too, it might be hard for me to say it most of the time. It's a phobia, but it's not chronic. Just, give me time?” he suggested.

“Anything, Chris, I don't care, I'll wait for the days you do say it and the day you want to keep telling me it all the time,” Watney hummed, running his thumb over Beck’s cheek.

“Should we go back?” he asked.

“I really want to lay down in the tent, holding you and just talk. But I got dirty potatoes dumped in my sleeping bag,” Watney groaned.

“Sleep in my tent. I have a bigger sleeping bag. It can fit two people, it's thicker too so it'll be warm,” he offered, looking back at Watney.

His eyes narrowed at that.

“I think you're suggesting a little somethin’ somethin’,” he accused, wiggling his eyebrows.

“I am not!” Beck protested, slapping Watney on the chest with a laugh.

“I didn't say I objected,” he teased, nuzzling his face into the crook of Beck’s neck.

Beck groaned in annoyance, shoving Watney away playfully as he began making his way back down the hill, Watney not too far behind after picking up the torches. He walked leisurely behind Watney before sneaking up on him, jumping onto his back and securing his arms around his neck. Watney's hands immediately hooked under Beck's knees, holding one of the torches up to Beck.

“Why am _I_ carrying you,” he said.

“Because I'm too lazy to walk back to camp,” Beck drawled, propping his chin up on his arm.

“Alright, Lord Bossy Beck I'll carry you back to your fucking tent because of your lazy ass,” he taunted.

“Are we going to poke fun at each other all the time now?” Beck questioned.

“Yeah, won't that be great,” he retorted.

“It'll be better than being alone,” Beck chuckled.

Watney tightened his grip on Beck, smiling sadly.

“I'm here for you now babe,” he stated.

Beck hummed and planting a kiss on Watney’s cheek.

“Good,” he said.

_“Hey! There they are!”_

“We didn’t get taken away by wild animals,” Beck joked.

“Everything okay now Chris?” Lewis spoke.

“Yeah,” Beck responded, happily. “Better than okay,” he said.

“Aww, Chris Beck is so cute,” Watney cooed, sarcastically.

“I will kick you in the thigh,” Beck threatened, as he slid off Watney’s back.

“I’m moving to Connecticut,” Watney announced.

“Really? Why?” Vogel asked.

Watney grinned widely.

“So I can date this handsome man right here,” he chimed, wrapping his arm around Beck’s waist.

“Melissa and I called it!” Johanssen cried out.

“I knew you would Beth,” Beck sighed, rolling his eyes with a smirk.

“And with that, Chris and I are going to our tent,” Watney replied.

“ _Our_ tent?” Martinez mumbled.

“I’m bunking in with Chris. So if anyone wants my tent, feel free,” Watney uttered.

“Too much information,” Lewis complained.

Beck gawked at his friends.

“It’s not like that!” he shouted.

“Not yet,” Watney sniped.

“Shh, babe, don’t ruin the surprise,” he purred.

“Gross get a room, or a tent…” Johanssen huffed out.

“We are,” he chided.

The pair moved away from the fire, their arms immediately around each other to keep the warmth as they walked over to Beck’s tent. He unzipped the opening and stepped inside, followed by Watney who zipped the tent closed. Beck moaned softly as he lay down inside his sleeping bag, propping his arms under his head.

“So comfortable,” he said, feeling Watney settle down beside him.

“Oh yeah?” Watney breathed out, shifting to hover over Beck. “I can think of something else that’ll be comfortable,” he whispered.

Beck smirked and clucked his tongue in response.

“Lay it on me,” he challenged.

Outside, still by the fire, Lewis, Johanssen, Martinez and Vogel sat in complete silence with only the fire and some birds being the ambience around them. That was until they heard a guttural moan from Beck’s tent, their eyes widening as they all hurried to stand up, knocking half empty mugs of coffee over.

_“Let’s get the hell out of here and go to the lake!”_

Beck and Watney could only laugh at the sounds of their friends retreating from camp, before getting back to business. _Nobody slept that night..._

**Author's Note:**

> I turned this into a longer fic. Part two will be when Watney moves to Connecticut and ‘things’ will happen *wink wink* 
> 
> I’m not sure how many other parts there will be. But I want to explore Chris’ phobia more.
> 
> I'm on Tumblr if you want to come cry or scream about these two nerds with me: [x-crossbones-x](http://x-crossbones-x.tumblr.com/)


End file.
